Carousel Nights

by Amie Denman

  “Maybe people have little kids and long drives home. Have to work the next day. Their feet are bloody stumps. Stuff like that. All kinds of reasons people get on the road.”

  “I guess. But it’s still a cool idea.”

  Mel laughed. “Like to see Evie’s face when you suggest exploding a couple of thousand bucks every night. She’d probably pull up her spreadsheet and stare you down over her reading glasses.”

  “I know it’s way out of our price range. This year. But it’s worth at least considering. The idea of it. Maybe we could do a nighttime show of some kind.”

  “Let’s hear it,” Mel said, crossing the small hill on the Point Bridge. “We’ve got at least twenty minutes before we get over to Port Warren.”

  June giggled. “Thanks for thinking I’ve got twenty minutes’ worth of new ideas. But we shouldn’t talk business tonight.”

  “All right,” Mel agreed.

  June silently watched Bayside go by as Mel got on the bypass and skirted the small city. They’d be crossing a large bridge over the bay as they neared Port Warren. June had always loved the massive bridge, remembering childhood trips in the backseat of her parents’ car. In the daytime, fishing and pleasure boats dotted the blue water far below the bridge. Stars hung low on summer nights, visible because the bridge was several miles from the bright lights of the Point or any of the small cities in the region.

  “We could build a stage in front of the Crazycat. Have lights and a dance show. Maybe involve the crowd with a dance competition,” she said.

  “Not great for the sore-footed, but teenagers would stick around. Building a stage and setting up lights isn’t free, but it’s also not ten grand a night like good fireworks would be.”

  “Is it doable?”

  “You could talk me into it. But you’ll have to be creative.”

  * * *

  DRINKS ON THE table and dinner orders placed, Mel and June faced each other across a gleaming white tablecloth at the Port House Inn. Not really an inn in terms of having overnight accommodations, the restaurant had kept the name from a time when the lighthouse and coal docks had made it a safe and profitable port. Generally too fancy for Mel’s taste, he figured the sight of June in that red dress was going to be worth the bill. Now that the inn catered mostly to the boating and yacht club crowd, his tie and her fancy shoes fit right in.

  “I’ve only been here once,” June said. “I think it was some special occasion like my mom’s birthday or Mother’s Day.” She half shrugged. “It was ten or fifteen years ago. But I still remember the strawberry cheesecake.”

  Mel smiled. “Must have made quite an impression. You should have something else for dessert tonight.”

  “Why?”

  “Because if you’re going to remember something that happens tonight for the next decade and a half, I want it to be better than strawberry cheesecake.”

  “Hard to compete with that,” June said.

  “I’ll work at it.”

  He cut a slice of bread from the small loaf delivered on its own little cutting board. Serving June first, he lopped off another slice and devoured it in two bites.

  “Sorry. Starving. Worked through lunch so I could knock off early and get Ross and his luggage to my parents’. Thought I was going to be late when we realized his favorite pajamas were in the washer.”

  “What did you do?”

  “Put ’em in the dryer by themselves on high while I packed the other stuff. Amazing how fast polyester will dry like that.”

  “You’re a superhero,” June said.

  “Nope. But when you have a kid you realize your life doesn’t belong to you anymore. And you’re usually one lost backpack or one loose tooth away from disaster.”

  “I don’t know how you manage it all alone.”

  “I’m not alone. I’m luckier than a lot of single parents. I have free day care at work and my parents do everything they can to make up for...”

  He poured them both a glass of wine, not bothering to finish his last sentence.

  “Does Ross ask about his mother?” June said.

  “He used to. Used to ask when she was coming, why she didn’t live with us. Stuff like that. He doesn’t ask much anymore.”

  “Poor Ross.”

  Mel ate another piece of bread and sipped his drink.

  “I haven’t been on a date in years,” Mel said. “So I’m out of practice, but I can do better than this for conversation.”

  “For example?”

  “You look so good in that dress I can easily convince myself to forget you’re my best friend’s sister.”

  June smiled. “Nice. I like this conversation. What else do you have?”

  “You should say something about how charming and irresistible I am, especially in this shirt and tie. The collar itches, you know. You have to throw me a bone.”

  “Every other woman in this restaurant is jealous and hoping I screw things up so bad you’ll offer yourself to the next available woman in the room.”

  “Very nice. But I don’t recommend it.”

  “What?” June asked.

  “Putting me at the mercy of the expensive-jewelry-fancy-boat crowd.”

  “You might be just what they’re looking for.”

  Mel laughed. “I got all the grease out from under my nails, but there’s still a pair of work boots under my bed and a toolbox in the back of my truck.”

  “I like that about you.”

  Mel shifted in his seat. He wondered if she also liked the fact that he had an ex-wife, was currently married to his job, and came as a package deal with a boy who considered corn dogs a food group and had a drawer full of Lego in the kitchen.

  He picked up his iced water and took a long drink. “New topic. My son has a birthday coming up this summer and I could use some ideas. What is the best birthday present you ever got?”

  June sipped her wine, smiling at him over the rim, taking her time. “Dance costume when I was ten. It was black, so I thought I was really sophisticated. And it had matching shoes.”

  “Sequins?”

  “Of course. You could see me from the space shuttle. I wore it constantly until I grew six inches between the ages of eleven and twelve and couldn’t squeeze into it anymore.”

  “Too bad.”

  “Yes, but I like being tall, so hey.” She leaned closer and lowered her voice. “Sometimes I worry that I’m too tall for a dancer. I maybe look a little goofy out there with the five-foot-seven crowd. I think I’ve lost a few parts because of my ridiculously long legs.”

  Mel leaned out and took a long, dramatic look under the table. “I see no problem there.”

  June slapped him lightly on the forearm. “People are staring.”

  “So?”

  “Why don’t you tell me about your favorite birthday present?”

  “Best I ever got was last fall. My parents got me a game system.”

  June rolled her eyes. “Video games?”

  “Hey, winters are pretty long. Plus, they got me and Ross some fun games we can play together. We build cities and knock ’em down. Sometimes we’re superheroes. Sometimes we race cars. We race a lot of cars.”

  “You and Ross?”

  “No fun playing alone. One of the best things about having a son. Never alone. That’s sometimes the worst thing, too, but not often. Always have someone waiting for you after work, happy to see you just because.”

  June’s teasing smile faded. She refolded the napkin in her lap. Mel was afraid he’d said too much, painting a picture of his life that lacked all the sparkle June was looking for in hers.

  “Do you ever wonder,” she began, but she was interrupted by the waiter delivering steaming dishes that smelled like heaven. Mel was hungry, but nervous. Wishing fo
r all the time in the world, but feeling rushed like a summer day destined to end, no matter how beautiful the sunset.

  He wanted to hear the end of June’s question, but he needed food to clear his head and build his courage. He half hoped June would be distracted by her shrimp and pasta long enough for him to down his food or change the subject.

  No luck.

  June picked up her fork and paused. “Do you ever wonder if life is passing you by?”

  “No.”

  “Just no? You never think maybe you’re working and working toward something, but you’re not sure what you’ll do when you get there? Or even how you’ll know if you’ve gotten there?”

  Mel forked several mouthfuls before answering. A man would starve to death if he didn’t fuel up for a conversation like this.

  “I don’t want to miss out on anything,” June insisted.

  “You’ve always been like that. I remember you—even when we were in elementary school—always wanting in on everything.” He chuckled. “In high school, you auditioned for all the lead parts in the musical, and I think you were disappointed when you only got one. You were good, too. I showed up at two out of three performances.”

  “You’re changing the subject and avoiding my question. You seriously don’t worry that your life isn’t going where...where you always thought it would?”

  “I used to. Used to worry about moving up the food chain and what I was going to be when I grew up.”

  “And now?” June asked.

  “I’m all grown up and at the top of the chain at Starlight Point. At least as far as someone outside your family is going to go. Thought about throwing myself at Evie and marrying into the clan, but she’s too tall for me,” he said, grinning.

  June wasn’t giving up. “So you’re living for the present.”

  “Yep. At present I have everything I need and something beautiful right in front of me.”

  June smiled and her shoulders relaxed. “Do you mean me or that big plate of seafood?”

  “Yes.”

  * * *

  AFTER DINNER, THEY walked along a paved path in front of the inn. Far across the bay, they could barely make out the lights on top of the coasters at Starlight Point. They paused by an old railing to watch the water.

  When a breeze off the lake lifted gooseflesh on June’s bare arms, Mel pulled her tight against him, just holding her for a few moments—long moments in which she breathed in his clean soap smell, her nose picking up the slight mint of shaving cream.

  “The summer will be half-over before we know it,” he said, his voice a low rumble against her. “I hate to see it go, but what I really hate...”

  She waited. Suspecting but afraid of what he was going to say. He hated to see her go.

  Did she have to go?

  June’s brain flooded with images. Mel in swim trunks diving into the lake in front of her parents’ house. Mel, shirtless, playing catch with Jack in the backyard. Mel in a tux taking her to prom so her parents wouldn’t worry. Mel in maintenance blues that brought out the color of his eyes.

  It would be so easy to stay.

  There were twenty years of reasons why the man whose scent, warmth and arms enveloped her should be hers.

  And she would belong to him. To their shared past and future. To Starlight Point.

  What about herself? Without her dreams leading her on, would she still know herself, be herself? For an instant, she didn’t care.

  And then a vision of the stage, the lights, the huge crowds, the city, the life she’d imagined for herself flashed before her and eclipsed the quiet lapping of the lake on the dark shore.

  “I think it’s time to go home for the night,” she said.

  “I hate to argue with a beautiful woman, but are you really sure you want to go home?”

  Being in Mel’s arms made it nearly impossible to be sure about anything. Which was one more reason she needed him to let her go.

  “I’m sure.”

  Mel hesitated a moment, and then very slowly released her and let the cool breeze burrow a path between them.

  * * *

  JUNE WAS SURE the low rumble of Mel’s truck woke the whole household. If she was lucky, her mother was still out. She could deal with Evie, but Virginia was a wild card.

  “I’m a little disappointed to see you so early.”

  June spun around, nearly shutting her finger in the heavy oak front door. Evie held a finger over her lips. “Mom’s in bed so I’m the only one seeing you come home way too early from your date.”

  Heading quietly for her room, June heard Evie right behind her.

  “Details,” Evie said, closing June’s bedroom door. “The price of my silence.”

  “What if I don’t care about keeping you silent?”

  “Then consider it bragging and tell me everything.” Evie sunk into the chair in the corner of June’s room and steepled her fingers, waiting, as if she were at a board meeting.

  “Another time. I’m supposed to be helping at Mel’s STRIPE class before park opening tomorrow morning. Although now I wish I hadn’t said I would.”

  Evie groaned. “Any chance Mom will give up on that wonderful tradition?”

  “Senility is our only hope. She’ll forget about it one of these years. Until then, I’m going to keep dodging it.”

  “Except for tomorrow. When you’re helping your boyfriend, the electricity professor.”

  June threw a pillow at her sister. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

  “How would I know that if you won’t make a full date disclosure?” Evie asked. “I want to hear about the sparks flying tonight.”

  “No sparks. I think it would make a pretty disappointing story.” June sat on her bed, torn between wishing Evie would leave and wishing she was brave enough to tell her the whole story. A little part of her knew Evie had probably connected all the dots herself, anyway.

  “Sorry you waited up for nothing.”

  “I’ll keep hoping,” Evie said. She looked as if she would pursue the conversation for a moment, but she heaved out of the chair and headed for the door. “There’s still plenty of summer left.”

  Not for her. Time was running out, and the New York stage wouldn’t wait.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  THE NEXT MORNING, June watched, fascinated by the Mel Preston she’d never seen before. She was used to funny Mel—the mischievous sidekick to her brother, Jack. Accustomed to handyman Mel, who’d fixed a pane of glass in junior high and watched over every circuit board, gear and yard of coaster track at the Point. Lately, she’d acknowledged another aspect to Mel. Steady, family man Mel who still hated spinny rides but sent her world and carefully laid plans spinning. Or he would if she let him.

  The man standing in front of ten dozen employees in the echoing Starlight Point ballroom was a Mel she had not seen in action. Of course she knew he was confident, competent and a strong leader. The park’s safety and mechanical record testified to his talent since he’d become head of maintenance four years earlier.

  What was different about him this morning? He reminded her of particularly capable directors or producers she’d seen work a stageful of performers in New York. A man in his domain who exuded masculine power.

  June’s eyes raked the crowd. She wondered how many of the female summer employees were enthralled by the neutral and hot wires or by the hot instructor. He was irresistible.

  But it was in her best interest to resist. His magnetism threatened to root her here, at Starlight Point. Tempted her to say goodbye to Broadway. She was not ready to give it up, no matter how easy it would be to sink into a life at Starlight Point.

  “Never touch anything you suspect could be hot,” Mel was saying, pointing to sample pictures and graphics. “Even 110 volts—a common ho
usehold current—can kill you. Amperage—amps you’ve probably heard it called—is something different.”

  Leaning against a column in the ornate old ballroom, June half listened to Mel’s lecture as she daydreamed about couples who had danced here. Going back generations, wearing lovely dresses and dashing tuxedos. Summer romances leaving a whispered impression. This ballroom always meant romance to her, but today it had another purpose.

  The gleaming wood floor had been invaded by classroom tables and dozens of folding chairs. Dancing would be more fun. She’d missed the chance to teach ballroom dancing three summers ago when it was the STRIPE lesson. Away dancing on Broadway, she’d missed a lot. Especially the last few years of her father’s life.

  A young man in the front row raised his hand. When Mel acknowledged him, he asked, “Where’d you learn all this stuff?” His tone was more admiration than rudeness.

  “Some at the local college,” Mel said, “but mostly from the apprenticeship program here at the Point. I started right out of high school ten years ago. You could do the same if you want.”

  June mentally left the dance floor and its history of happy couples and returned to Mel. She was supposed to help at one of the tables when people split into groups. She should probably pay attention to the lesson so she didn’t electrocute herself in front of her employees. Thinking about electricity was far less painful than thinking about the things she’d missed at home and the things she would miss if she stayed. She sighed, wishing decisions came more easily as she got older.

  Her cell phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out and glanced at the caller ID. It was Megan, her theater manager, calling at eight o’clock in the morning.

  Not a good sign.

  June stepped outside and answered the call.

  “Are you in labor already?” she asked.

  Megan laughed. “Don’t even think it. It’s Brooke. She had to go home for her grandfather’s funeral. She got the call last night. Her roommate just called me.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry to hear that,” June said. “Poor Brooke.”

  “I’m sorry, too, of course. And I understand why she left last night,” Megan said. “But it gives us a problem for four days. We already sent Sarah to fill in Christina’s spot, so now we’re down two dancers in the Broadway show. Any suggestions?”